Hostage MONKPSYCHNUMB3RS
by CI-KiteWolfling-NYPD
Summary: To enlist the help of defective detective Adrian Monk,Shawn Spencer, and reknown mathematician Charles Eppes siblings Jack and Katlyn Springer find themselves driving up and down Californias coast,but isn't it worth it if this armada can find their dad?
1. Enter the players

"This is such a waste of our time!" My brother said for what must have been the millionth time. He brushed his brown hair out of his face and scowled across the car at me, "You know that, right?"

"Come on Jack, give it a rest!" I said calmly from the passenger seat. As we rolled to a stop at a red light, I swiftly consulted my map, "Keep going straight here for about two blocks—"

Jack slammed on the accelerator probably harder than what he normally would have as the stoplight turned green, and we lurched across the intersection. Despite the fact that it was a gorgeous, beautiful day in Santa Barbra, California, the expression on Jack's face suggested that he would rather be anywhere else than driving his fifteen year old sister to the outskirts of town to meet a psychic.

"Kat, please tell me you really don't believe in this psychic crap." Jack moaned, "I thought you at least had a grain of sense in that pretty little head of yours…"

"Well if this psychic crap helps find dad…"

"Then I'll never speak another word against the lot of them," My brother vowed, a light shining in his eyes, "But until that day I am still skeptical."

"Mom believed it." I said softly.

"That's a low blow, Katlyn." Jack gripped the steering wheel hard, "Real low. Ok, so maybe mom was big into this kinda crappity crap crap before she died, but that doesn't mean its real, right? I mean for years you believed Santa Clause skipped California ever year because there was no snow…"

"Come on, Jack lighten up!" I snapped, "What the hell else are we going to do? The note said no police, none of mom's F.B.I friends, no nothing."

"And yet the San Francisco Police Department are crawling all over the house."

"The note said no police when it came to the kidnapping." I rolled my eyes, "They don't care if the police investigate the disappearance…"

"Kat that made no sense whatsoever." Jack rolled his eyes too.

"Whatever, man. Whoever took dad doesn't want _us_ going to the police. So who else are we going to go to then a psychic?"

At this point Jack was out of logical arguments (knowing that I have a sort of force field around me that does not let the most logical threads penetrate) and he started a kind of war chant under his breath that went a little something like this, "_wasteoftime,, wasteoftime, wasteoftime ,wasteoftime, wasteoftime, wasteoftime_ …"

While my loving, caring, kind and understanding brother continued his mantra, even adding a little drumbeat on the steering-wheel, I banged my head against the window. Hard.

"HEY!" Jack yelped, desisting from his chant long enough to punch me on the arm, "Easy on the glass!"

The Mustang was Jack's baby. He had bought it when he was a junior in high school, and even to this day, eight years after he had saved it from the junk yard…he still bitched and moaned and obsessed over every square inch. Some things never change…

"That's it!" I pointed to a small square building on the left, "That's it, Jack! Hey! Pull over! JACK!"

Jack had made as though to blow right past the building and head for the beach, but I reached across him and yanked the steering wheel to the left. We swerved across two lanes of traffic, narrowly avoiding death, and into the parking lot. Jack managed to slam on the brakes before we crashed through the buildings front window, but he could not save the arrangement of flowers that we mowed down on the way.

"Well, here we are." I said conversationally as Jack sent me hate looks. I unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door, and slammed it hard just to rile him even more, "Come on, Jack…"


	2. In San Francisco

_One week earlier_

"Yep. Thanks for the call Lockly. Mmhmm.."

Lieutenant Randy Disher slammed his way into Captain Stottlemeyer's office, the door banging against the wall with an almighty crash. Stottlemeyer gestured violently in his lieutenants direction, ear pressed against his phone.

"Ya, that was Randy." Leland sighed, "Yup. Thanks so much for calling, James. I'll get someone to look into it right away. Take care."

As the Captain dropped the phone back into its cradle, he gave a stern look to Randy, "Alright, now what was so important that you had to come barging into here—"

"Captain, I think you might want to sit down for this!" Randy said, his face shining with excitement. Stottlemeyer repressed a heavy sigh with a great amount of difficulty.

"Randy, we've been through this over and over. I don't want to sit down." The Captain squinted at what Randy had in his hands, "What case file is that?"

"Sir, I really think you want to sit down."

Stottlemeyer let the sigh out, and he sat down in his chair, "Alright, Randy I'm sitting. Again. If this is any less spectacular than the resurrection, you're fired."

"Ok sir, here we go. Alright….here we go…" Randy seemed to be pep talking himself more than his commanding officer. He stepped closer to the Captains desk, and shrugged open the case file, "You remember Emily Springer, don't you?"

"Course I do!" Leland nodded, "She worked here ten years before she moved up the ladder and became F.B.I…that's what James Lockly called about—"

"No, no you gotta listen to this!" Randy looked so excited that Stottlemeyer was worried that he might actually pop, "Guess what? She'd dead! They found her murdered in the house this morning, and their kids and husband are gone!"

_Pause_

"And you're excited about this?" The Captain leaned back in his chair.

"Well, no of course not sir." Randy's grin fell, "It's-well, its terrible but I just thought you'd like to know…"

"Randy, I was on the phone with James Lockly from the missing persons department." Stottlemeyer grunted, "I know everything you know, and maybe more. James believes that Emily was killed and Jon was taken hostage. Their daughter Katlyn reported her father missing, and then disappeared herself."

"What about the son?" Randy looked riveted, sitting down in the chair across from the Captain's desk, wide-eyed.

"Jack is twenty-five and moved to Santa Barbra years ago. Katlyn is fifteen, and lived at home with her parents." The Captian suddenly rose and grabbed his coat, "At least she did live at home, no one can find her now. Call Monk, tell him to meet us at the Springer manor. We've got a murder, a kidnapping, and a missing teenage daughter to work on. Emily Springer was a good woman, and anyone who wears a badge and knew her is out to solve this. The entire Police Department is joining hands with the F.B.I on this one."

"But I thought we only solved homicides." Randy looked confused.

The Captain buttoned up his coat and gave another great sigh, "Randy just call Monk and get in the car."


	3. In Los Angeles

_One week earlier (The same time as the last chapter)_

"No way. There is no frikken way."

Charles Eppes laughed, and leaned back in his chair, "Sorry, Don. Looks like I win. Again."

"Ahh…this is bull." Don grinned good naturedly, shaking his head, "We've been playing for about five minutes and you already got me in a checkmate. Good work, buddy."

Amita was curled up on the couch. She had been watching the brothers play their brief game of chess with a soft smirk tugging on her pretty features, "Don, you're telling me that you've never played chess against your brother before?"

"He was always either playing baseball or hockey." Charley said, sweeping the chess pieces off the bored and back into the box, "Never had time to sit down and—"

"Get his ass kicked by his little brother, no I didn't have time for that." Don was still grinning. He folded up the bored and handed it to his brother, rising from the table. Amita and Charley heard him rummaging around in the fridge.

"Don never knew how to play chess until Millie taught him last week." Charley said softly to Amita, who laughed.

"I heard that." A waspish voice drifted from the kitchen, "Hey Charley after you beat me mercilessly you could at least have some decent food in the—" Someone walked through the front door, "—Oh hey dad."

"Hey Don." Alan said gruffly, shrugging his jacket off and putting it on the coat rack Don had made in woodshop years ago, "And I'm way ahead of you, son."

There were general cries of approval as Alan set a bag of delicious smelling take-out on the dining room table.

Don got a call on his cell just as the family was about to start eating. He motioned for the others to start without him, and went back into the kitchen to take in the call.

"Mmm…thanks!" Amita reached for the bag, and in a matter of seconds had pulled everything out on the table.

"I see you kids got the chess board out." Alan noted, opening his carton of Chinease, "You and Amita go at it again? Who won?"

"No, dad. I finally got Don to play me." Charley had a lot of difficulty hiding a large grin that stretched from ear to ear, "I ended it quickly."

"Frankly I'm surprised that he even agreed to play." Alan jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen, "That boy doesn't like to loose, and he knows you can walk all over anyone in a game of chess."

"He had me once or twice." Charley lied for his brother's sake.

All at once Don came flying into the dining room as though the devil were after him, eyes wild. He threw on his coat and grabbed his car keys and was almost halfway out the door before he even thought to tell everyone where he was going.

"They found Emily Springer dead today in San Francisco. Jon's missing and so is their daughter."

"WHAT?"

Charley rose swiftly, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste.

"Sorry I've got to go—they need—"

"Hold on Don, HOLD ON!" Alan barked. Don hesitated, "Are you going to San Francisco right _now?_ _Tonight?_"

"I don't know, they just want me to get down to the department, nothings for sure right now."

Charley was still standing, "Don do they need—"

"I don't _know _I just don't _know!"_ Don roared unexpectedly, "Nothing was supposed to happen to Emily! She's off duty right now—on vacation at home in San Francisco. They don't have many details, but they-they want me to lead the investigation."

A beat—

"If anything was going to happen to her it should have happened to her when she was at least on the job!" Don grimaced, "And they can't find Kat…they're trying to get a hold of Jack right now…listen guys I'm sorry. I really have to go, but I'll call the second I get word of what I'm supposed to do, ok?"

_BAM_ Don slammed the door behind him so hard that the panes of glass in it rattled rather threateningly.

Needless to say Don's dramatic exit had thrown a damper on the rest of the evening.

"Who's Emily Springer?" Amita asked quietly.

"Well known field agent," Charley said solemnly, "She works as a profiler in San Francisco after she moved there and got married, and once in a while she gets a case thrown her way and it brings her up here. Don hasn't seen her in a while, though…I went to high school with her son Jack…"

"So she's F.B.I, too?"

"Been working with the feds for about five years now." Alan grunted, "Worked with the San Francisco police department for about ten. Jack and Katlyn are her kids, Jack must be…in his twenties, about three or four years younger than Charley here…and Katlyn is…well she's gotta be in high school now."

"And they want Don to head an investigation where he's got emotional ties to the victim?" Amita cocked her head, "Doesn't that go against everything that the F.B.I has done before in the past?"

"You don't know Emily." Alan shot a knowing glance at his son, "She was…um…a little strange. Brilliant woman, but you know how smart people can be…ahem...ahh…"

Amita grinned.

Charley flicked a mushroom at his dad, "She had her quirks, but was a good person. Everyone loved her. I'm guessing they're calling Don in since he knew her the best, and can probably help decipher clues better than someone working the case who has no idea what she's really like."

"Can't her husband do that?"

"Don said Jon was missing." Charley looked perturbed, "And So is Kat…but he didn't say anything about Jack…"


	4. In Santa Barbra

_**(Authors note) When I finished this chapter I realized that I had changed Point of View from 1**__**st**__** n to 3rd person. Sorry about that, I was going to change it back to 1**__**st**__** person, but then I re-read it and thought that it actually worked quite nicely the other way. Tell me what you think, and I'll change it in the next chapter if you all don't like it.**_

Shawn Spencer was facing one of the greatest challenged known to mankind, and was for the record handling it quite well. It was with a cool hand and mind that he had knocked down most of his opponents, but it was starting to wear on him. There was one foul beast that would not lay down and die. Was this the end?

"Hey Gus, seven letters across. _A representation of medieval knighthood."_

"That's 'Quixotic', Shawn."

"AHA I GOT YA!" Shawn whooped, penciling in his answer. Today's crossword had been unusually challenging…

Both men looked up as there was suddenly a great commotion outside. A red Mustang had swerved across five lanes of traffic, and slammed into their parking lot, narrowly coming in through the front window but rolling to a safe stop at last.

Gus leaped to his feet, yelping, "SHAWN THEY MOWED OVER MY PANZIES!!"

"Gus, sit down before you soil yourself, and for the record you are a pansy." Shawn didn't look all that interested in the goings on outside until he saw the two figures step out of the car, one girl and one boy, "Well, well what do we have here?"

"Look's like we've got company, Shawn!" Gus grinned.

"Oh GOODY!" Shawn lowered his feet from their position perched on his desk, and returned them to the floor with a bang, "Maybe they'll help me!" Shawn waved the newspaper around in the air, joy on his features.

Or _maybe _we can help them!" Gus sat up a little straighter, and tweaked his tie.

"Oh come on, Gus you're being way to professional about this." Shawn scorned, running in his fingers through his hair (which had not seen a comb for at least three days), "And no we haven't gotten a job in at least three weeks so don't get your hopes up—"

The girl slammed through the front door, ringing the bell loudly, followed by a taller broad-shouldered boy who wore a sour express on his face. Gus leaped to his feet, all distress over his pansies gone as he smoothed down his shirt and held out a hand for the girl to shake.

"Hi, I'm Burton Guster. Welcome Psych Agency!"

The first things Kat noticed about the place was that it looked nothing like she thought the office of a Psychic would. The place was neatly, smartly decorated like a plush office would be, and as far as she could tell there was absolutely nothing about the place that suggested it had anything to do with psychics

The second thing she noticed was the man dressed to the hilt in a clean-cut gray suit that was shaking her hand very hard.

"Um…hello." Kat managed to pull her hand from Gus's grasp, and noticed another man (who was defiantly not wearing a suit, rather a tattered T-shirt and khaki shorts) lounging at a desk, doing a crossword, "We're…um here to—"

"Hire us?" Gus said, beaming.

"But of course you knew that." Jack said, scowling and crossing his arms over his broad chest, "Being _psychic _and all."

"Hey can I get a thirteen letter word from anyone? _Bringing up to date?" _Shawn swiveled back and forth in his chair, totally ignoring Jack's comment.

"Aggiornamento." Kat said automatically, looking confused, "I that this morning's paper…I already did that crossword it was quite easy…but anyways…back to what we came here for…"

"Gus here has a little trouble spelling 'Aggiornamento', right buddy?"

"_SHAWN!_"

"A-G-G-I-O-R—"

"_SHAWN!!!_"

Jack and Katlyn exchanged glances. Jack started his chant again, under his breath

"_Wasteoftime, wasteoftime, wasteoftime, wasteoftime, wasteoftime…"_

"_EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!" _Kat hollered.

Everyone froze, and stared at her.

The girl smiled, and tossed her pretty head, "Thank you very much. Now—I want to get this done as soon as possible, Jack and I can't be in one place for too long. Who's the psychic here?"

"That would be me." The other man threw his crossword down on the desk, leaped out of his chair, and vaulted over the desk. He stood in front of Kat, grinning widely, "How may I be of service?"

While Jack and Gus rolled their eyes so hard they were in danger of spraining their eye muscles, Kat smiled back at him.

"Well—"

"Shouldn't you know that too?" Jack cut in, stepping between Shawn and his sister. Jack's arms were still crossed and he was looking mighty protective, "I mean, being a psychic and all…"

Shawn poked the man in the chest and got right up in his face, "Do I detect a hint of doubt in your beautiful blue eyes, sir?"

"Yeah, ya do." Jack's hard stare bored into the back of Shawn's skull, not about to be intimidated, "And it's a lot more than a hint, I can tell you that much right now."

"_Jack!"_ Kat resisted the urge to kick her brother in the back of his legs with a lot of difficulty.

"Hold on!" Gus said, looking as though he had been struck with understanding, "You two are Jack and Katlyn Springer, aren't you? You guys are all over the news, they're looking for you in San Francisco! I recognized her!" Gus pointed at Katlyn, and she looked startled.

Jack turned his attention from Shawn and stared at Gus, "WHAT?"

"What do you mean, looking for us?" Katlyn suddenly went from startled to scared.

Now it was Shawn and Gus's turn to exchange glances.

"I mean…like…they're asking your friends where you've gone…" Gus said, raising his eyebrows, "That's usually what people mean when they say—"

"They don't know where I am, do they?" Katlyn looked desperately from Gus to Shawn, "_Do they_?" She added in a slightly shrill voice.

_DING! _The tension in the air was cut clean in half as Shawn's Easy-Bake oven announced the fact that his cupcakes were finished.

"JOY!" Shawn practically skipped over to the other side of the room, and pulled open the oven door, "Everybody push pause a second—now who wants one?"

Shawn spun around, the cupcake tray in his hands. Kat cocked her head—The cupcakes were about as big around as a quarter and about as tall as one too.

"Shawn this is not the best time!" Gus said warningly as Jack scowled deeper and flexed his jaw muscles.

Shawn paid his friend no heed. He popped one of the little morsels into his mouth, and immediately cringed, "Urg, tastes like plastic. Nothing ever turns out right in this thing…"

"Do you want a job or not?" Jack spat, looking murderous.

"I take it you are…_not _a very happy camper!" Shawn smiled as he sifted through memories of that morning's news coverage on channel 3, trying to remember what had been said about the Springer children, "Sorry that I can't help you with your issues, But if you want me to…" Shawn held two fingers to his temples, and closed his eyes as though he were receiving a vision, "…help you find your father, then you're in luck!"  
Gus was doing double takes, "Shawn—How did you—"

"It's been all over the news that Jon Springer and his daughter are missing after their mother was murdered," Jack said skeptically, jamming his hands into his pockets, "And since the daughter is standing here in front of you, it's just a logical thread that we either want to find our dad, or find whoever killed our mom. That's not psychic visions, mate—that's just watching the morning news."

"Jack—" Now Katlyn was looking murderous.

Shawn held his arms wide open, "So do you want us to help find your father, then?"

"Yes." Jack and Kat said in perfect unison.

"Well then, we'd better get started!" Shawn beamed, "Well Gus here will take your numbers and we'll get back to you in a few days!"

Kat blinked, "Sorry…what? Can't you just…pull out your crystal ball and…scry him or something?"

"Yes, Shawn Spencer." Jack commented sarcastically, "OR maybe you could use your tarot cards, or possibly even your easy-bake oven…"

Shawn chortled, "Crystal-Crystal ball? Ha ha ha…" He was suddenly serious, "No, Jack and Katlyn Springer. My methods are different. I do not require the usage of such things like some of your other mediocre psychics. I have my own vibe, right Gus?"

"Is that what he calls it?" Jack murmured so only Gus could hear. He continued in a louder tone, "So let me get this straight. We leave you our cell numbers and let you consult the spirits for a few days before getting back to us and telling us that you couldn't find anything?" Jack finished with a challenge in his voice.

The atmosphere in the room was suddenly icy. Shawn slowly put his tray of cupcakes down on his desk, thinking swiftly.

"Almost right." He said, smiling broadly, "You're getting there! You leave us your cell numbers, I consult the spirits, and then in a few days I tell you where your dad is!"

"I'll take that bet," Jack crossed his arms again and looked imperious.

"Then we'll take the job!" Shawn held out a hand for Jack to shake, but the elder Springer looked at it as though he were mad.

"Thanks very much Mr. Spencer." Kat said, coming forward and taking the hand instead, "And as for payment—"

"No need!" Shawn grinned as Gus started forward, with his mouth open, "I have a feeling your brother here wont feel much like paying us unless I get something from the spirits…so until that point its all complimentary."

"Shawn—" Gus looked as though he wanted to strangulate him/

"Want to keep that finger?" Jack growled as Shawn made to poke him in the chest again.

"Fine, FINE!" Katlyn snapped, disgusted with her brother. As she rattled off her number to Gus, Jack leaned in for a private little word with Shawn Spencer.

"Listen mate, if you screw my sister over I'll kill you. Her mom's dead and her dad is missing and she's desperate for help, desperate enough to come to you. I'm not kidding, if you're trying just to make a quick buck or get your five minutes of fame I. Will. Kill. You." Jack suddenly smiled, "Did you predict _That?"_

"No but I'm seeing some anger management classes in your future." Shawn said tactfully, stepping back from the seething young man, grabbing the tray of cupcakes off the desk again as he did so, "Would a cupcake help your problem? The plastic really compliments the—"

"Thank you both for your help!" Kat said earnestly, grabbing her brother by the arm and dragging him back with considerable force, "It would be ideal if you don't tell the police I'm here in Santa Barbra, or tell them that we're looking for our dad, ok?"

Gus and Shawn raised their hands in a farewell as the girl pulled her brother out the front door, snarling and spitting at him with all the love and affection a sister can have.

"_Could you have been a bigger ass????"_

Shawn tried another cupcake, and managed to chew on it at least for a few seconds before bending over and delicately gagging it into the trash-can.

"Shawn, what was that?" Gus looked furious, "You tell them we can get them their dad back in only a few days, and then you say that we're not charging them? This could be the biggest case we've ever worked on! We have to call the Chief!"

"Didn't you hear her? She said no police!"

"And that's fishy enough as it is!" Gus started pacing wildly, "If their dad is missing, wouldn't they want all the help they can get in finding him?"

"Of course they do, Gus, but they want all the _non-police _ help they can get!" Shawn starting flipping through the phone book, "They looked as though they've been hunted down this past week, can't you see what's been going on?"

"No, Shawn. I'm not the one with high observation skills. Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Someone kidnapped the dad so that the kids will tell the kidnappers something that the mom wouldn't tell them before they killed her." Shawn spoke very fast, trying to get everything out in one breath, still flipping through the phone book, "And if the police know where the kids are then that's the same thing as the kidnappers knowing where the kids are and that would be bad because I think the kids don't know what the kidnappers want to know and the kidnappers aren't very happy about that, so they're ducked all police and instead going to non police people, which happened to be us.

Shawn sucked in a great breath after this speech. Gus looked lost.

"Shawn, have you even stopped to consider the fact that we don have the faintest idea where to start on this case?"

"Oh, I have a faint idea. Actually, its not all that faint." Shawn beamed, "I'm calling your boss and telling him that you're taking your vacation now for a week."

"WHAT?"

"PACK YOUR BAGS, MATE!" Shawn roared, looking joyous, "ROADTRIP! WE'RE GOING TO SAN FRANCISCO!!!"


	5. Authors note, please read

**Hello everyone who reads the Psych/monk/numb3rs stories. (And there are quite a lot of you, thanks for all the support!)**

**Sorry that there haven't been any new chapters in the last like…forever but right now I'm sitting back and trying to work out the more intricate plot details. You all know this fact—I've given myself quite a challenge here trying to work in several dynamic characters into one storyline. I have barely started but I still want to put my thinking cap on and tie together some of the loose ends I've created.**

**Some people who paid attention to the uber small details are going to find out that the time line I set up between these last four chapters doesn't work out. Disregard that I guess, I shouldn't have wrote that without thinking ahead.**

**Don't despair, I'll be back shortly. I just want to make this as awesome as humanly possible. I would hate to let the nine readers of this tale down with a lackluster next chapter. Feel free to send me some ideas, and I'll give credit when credit is due if I use them.**

**Thanks again for your time.**

**CIWolfling**


	6. So it begins

**(Ok I'm back, but I'm still a little confused as to where I want this story to go, lol. Alright let's roll.)**

Shawn was so excited to head to San Francisco he would have jumped into Gus's car and started driving that instant, but Gus held him back feeling (not for the first time) that he was controlling a rambunctious fifth grader who has learned he was going on a field trip to the zoo.

"We need money, Shawn!" Gus said, always carefully thinking ahead, "And somewhere to stay. Oh yeah, and we need to pack a change of clothes and toiletries—"

"C'mon Gus, we're not going camping in the mountains, it's San Francisco!" Shawn started bouncing on the heels of his toes, "If we don't bring something along, we can just buy it at the store!"

"I can only brush my teeth with my own toothbrush." Gus said fiercely, crossing his arms over his chest, "And I am very particular about my—"

"Fine be a girl!" Shawn exclaimed, scowling, "But when you're off making sure you packed your special Fruit of the Loom undies, be sure to cash the checks you've been meticulously hiding behind the toaster in your kitchen!"

"I don't wear fruit of the loom underwear, Shawn!" Gus scowled deeply, "And how did you know where I kept my—"

"GO GO GO!" Shawn whooped, pushing Gus out of the door, "Be back in an hour! We've got to hit the road, buddy! We're burning daylight! Time's a wastin'! You know what they say—the early psychic gets the case, or something like that…"

Shawn chased his friend with strange phrases like this while he ran out to his car, mourned briefly over his trampled flowers, got into his car and drove away.


	7. A Trail of Bread Crumbs

__**Meh…last chapter was a little tentative, hopefully these next two or three will drive home the nails I was so afraid to set into the wood. Disregard all timeline plot holes you see, I have turned a blind eye to them after initially noting them. There is nothing that I can do now. Forward we go.) **

The black SUV looked out of place as it slid in quietly next to all of the police cruisers.

"All of these men for one case?" Colby asked wonderingly, stepping out of the vehicle and stretching. It had been a long ride…while he limbered up he looked across at Don, who slammed the car door hard enough to echo across the street.

The Springer manner was a sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city, a large testament to the rewards of working faithfully as a United States Federal Agent. Now there were about two dozen cops crawling around the place, police tape stretched here and there…

"This is Emily Springer, man." Don threw over his shoulder, as though this explained everything. He stepped up onto the sidewalk and sized the house up before striding purposefully towards the front door without another word.

"Whom I never met." Colby rolled his eyes, but backed off for now. It had been a quiet ride on the way over here with Don stewing in his own thoughts most of the way, not to be disturbed.

David got out of the car too, still slurping up the last few drops of a coke he had been nursing the entire ride. He contemplated taking the beverage in with him to totally finish off, thought better of it and chucked it back into the car. He slammed the door shut and followed Colby up into the house.

The three men showed their ID to the officer at the front door.

"Captain Stottelmeyer is waiting for you in the study," The officer said, lifting up the tape so that they could pass through.

"Thanks!" Colby bobbed his head, but Don was already gone. David and Colby exchanged meaningful looks before taking off after him.

It was two days since the actual event of the killings. The scene had been preserved as carefully as possible and the bodies meticulously photographed and taken to the morgue.

Bod_ies_. Plural.

There had been two dead forms when police arrived on the scene of the Springer manor, the body of the now late Mrs. Emily Springer, and the corpse of her attacker.

But no Jon. And no Katlyn

Apparently the alleged killer had been wounded after shooting the mistress of the house, and then had died later from internal bleeding.

At least that was what the initial consensus was. Now experts were coming in to take a look, because the initial consensus was just ridiculous.

"Nice place here." David deadpanned as they walked through the house. It was a strange building, as though a team of builders had gathered together and thrown a handful of architectural styles in no particular order. The house was one of a kind, large, and was going to be a pain in the ass to canvas if it came down to it.

"_Nice _place? Now _there's _and understatement." Colby snorted as they passed the giant living room. He glanced at his reflection in the large plasma screen TV, "You could sell this house and feed an entire third world country, I'll bet."

"You could take how much Jon and Katlyn Springer are worth and _build _an entire third world country." Don muttered mutinously, "And I think someone out there has realized that."

"You think it's a hostage stint?" Colby asked sharply.

"I don't know what else to think." Don said heatedly, jamming his hands in his pockets, "Jack, Jon, and Katlyn are all missing. The murder isn't the key factor here, there's something else going on, something that was above Emily's head. Either Jon, Kat or Jack were somehow involved with it," Don's eyes glittered, "And I have a feeling its Jack."

"What makes you say that?" David frowned.

"Never trusted him." Don scowled, "Unfortunately I've never had a real reason to hate him. Weird kid, always was. One second he could be grinning at you, the next he'd be kicking you in the shins and laughing about it. Ask Charlie. Ah…here we are. Captain Stottlemeyer!"

The trio had come through the living room and into a large and plush study. Things seemed to be in order despite the fact that two murders had taken place there—Don hoped fervently that the SFPD hadn't cleaned up the scene, but immediately dismissed the thought. Surely they wouldn't be so foolish as to do so…

"Agents, Eppes, Granger, and Sinclair, nice to finally meet you." The Captain turned on his heel and held out a hand for them to shake in turn, "I'm sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances—"

A tall, thin excitable looking man suddenly appeared around the corner.

The Captain nodded to the new arrival, "—And this is Lieutenant Randy Disher."

"Honor to meet you!" The Lieutenant gasped, gripping Don's hand, "Really it is!"

"Same." Don extracted his hand from the Lieutenants and jammed it in his pocket, looking around at the scene, "Listen, Emily was a friend of mine…I fully intend to bring whoever did this to justice, you just watch…"

"She was a friend to just about everyone…" Leeland crossed his arms over his chest, "She worked with us longer than what she did with your people. Our resources are yours, together we can crack this."

"Ahhh….about that…" Colby glanced at his companions, then back to the Captain, "Maybe you didn't get the memo from Central yet…we're taking the case."

"Oh no you don't!" Stottelmeyer raised his finger warningly as though he had expected this, "Emily was with us, best cop on our force for years. There is no way you can descend here and tell us all to pack it in and go home, this one hits to hard to close. I was told the F.B.I was going to be working together with the SFPD on this case…"

"Yeah, we thought so too." David said truthfully, "Sorry—"

"_Sorry?" _The Captain raised his voice slightly, "Did you know this lady? Did you know those kids? You expect me to take a backseat after what happened to this family?"

"I don't like it either but the orders came from over my head!" Don shot back, tone growing in pitch and volume, stepping closer to the man, "And we don't even know where the kids are, so don't—"

"Don!" David grunted "Calm down—"

"Well, well well!" A voice rolled in, cutting the tension in the air nearly clean in half, "Looks like a few people here are blowing enough hot air to re-inflate the Hindenburg!"

Stottelmeyer and Don rounded on the two new arrivals, eyes flashing.

"Who the hell are you?" Colby demanded of the men, neither of which were wearing any ID, indeed they looked more like tourists than anyone that belonged at a crime scene.

"Question is, who the hell are you?" Shawn asked cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of his toes and beaming. Gus groaned on the inside—

"I'm F.B.I Special Agent Colby Granger." Colby raised his eyebrows, "Who trumps who here?"

"Sorry, agents this nutjob is….regrettably….with us." Carlton Lassiter called form the hall, ducking under the police tape with Juliet trailing at his heels, "I'm detective Lassiter, and this is Detective O'Hara. I'm sure you got the call from our chief after the reports, we're from—"

"Santa Barbra, yeah. How are you?" Don quickly shook both their hands, ignoring Gus and Shawn completely, "I'm Agent Eppes…I don't know how to say this, but we've already taken over the case. We don't need Santa Barbra involved—"

"Oh but you do, and that's why we're here." Lassiter answered back with a challenging fake smile on his face, not usually liking to be shut down, "Jack and Katlyn were last seen in our sunny city yesterday—"

"Or didn't the Feds '_Get that memo yet."_ Stottelmeyer mimicked, raising his eyebrows.

"Detectives…" Don nodded behind him, making a quick intro, "This is Special Agent Sinclair….Police Captain Stottelmeyer…and—"

"Lieutenant Randy Disher!" Randy said breathlessly, taking Juliet's hand, "Lieutenant."

"That's….impressive." Juliet faltered, trying not to laugh.

While everyone got made small talk about the weather, how the trip from their respective cites had gone…Shawn stepped into the middle of things, cleared his throat and waved his hands.

"Hey people? There're two taped outlines over there. That means there were two dead bodies." Shawn clapped his hands together, trying to make a point, "And dead bodies mean…. There's a murderer still out there?"

He spun on his heel, "Am I right, Gus?"

"You're right Shawn." Gus answered back quickly.

"You and your friend still haven't been introduced." The Captain said, sounding supremely annoyed at this new arrival.

"Oh this is—" Lassiter glanced at Juliet, hoping that she would take over this unsavory task. She silently shook her head and he sighed—put off that he now had to introduce the two thorns in his side, "This is…this is just Shawn."

"_Just _Shawn?" The man in question shook his head sadly, "Why Lassie! I'm very disappointed! Sorry, Captain. What the good detective here meant to say was, 'this is Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster-also know as Gus-head psychics of the Santa Barbra police department!"

"Yes." Lassiter rolled his eyes so hard he thought he might have sprained them, voice dripping sarcasm, "That's _exactly _what I meant to say. My mistake."

"We have no need for a…" Don had to stop himself from doing some heavy duty eye rolling too, "_Psychic. _We've got our own man for the job, and trust me he could walk all over you."

"Oh _Really?" _Shawn looked intrigued.

'We've got our own man too!" The Captain said quickly.

"Oh _Really?" _Shawn repeated, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Gus. He spun and gave Lassie his best puppy dog eyes, "Can I be _your_ man? _PLEASE_?"

Juliet stepped in, pointing to Shawn, "As long as we're pointing out capable consultants, Shawn has helped us with a lot of cases in the past, maybe he and your guy could team up."

'_Thank you Jewels!' _Shawn mouthed.

Don chuckled, "No, our guy doesn't work like that. Trust me."

David looked around, hoping the Captain's 'man' wasn't the Lieutenant, who seemed to be staring off into distant space, a daydream in his eyes, "Where's your guy?"

"Monk? Not here yet." Stottelmeyer said slowly, "There…was an emergency."

"What kind of emergency?" Juliet looked anxious, "Is he alright?"

"Ohh…" Leeland sighed, "When you meet him you'll understand more. It's…a Monk Emergency. Right now we're just trying to keep the scene as fresh as possible."

"Everything looks so clean and put away here." Colby said, walking around the room. Not a book was off the shelf, not a scrap on the floor, not a lampshade out of place. The only signs that something had gone amiss were a few bullet holes scattered in a seemingly random pattern on the wall, and two bloodstains framed by tape outlines…

"It's one of the things making this so unusual we didn't touch it." The Captain said grimly, "We arrived on the scene—knew something was up. We think someone tampered with the scene, someone who knew what they were doing. We've already canvassed the entire house, no fingerprints anywhere, not even on doorknobs."

"Wiped clean?"

"Clean as a whistle." The Captain said waspishly, "So either we're dealing with a very clever criminal, or its common practice in this house for the family members to walk around in hair nets and gloves."

Don noted the strange bullet pattern—or lack of pattern—on the walls, "Captain, make sure I get copies of all the photos of the scene, please. Especially that pattern there."

"Pattern?" Juliet squinted at the wall, "Looks pretty random to me."

"My brother can do all the trajectory figures in his head and give you a picture of what went on." Don said, rubbing his chin as he peered at the holes, eyebrows knitted together.

"We're pretty sure we know what happened, though." Randy said excitedly, taking this opportunity to smile brilliantly at Juliet. He pointed at two small bullet holes in the far wall, and then to the bagged body on the floor, "Looks like—"

"_AHHHH!!!" _Shawn screamed and clutched his forehead dramatically, squeezing one eye shut and leaving the other open and quite free to roam over the room, picking up details here and there, "GUS!!! HELP MEEE!!!"

"A vision!" Gus exclaimed to general astonishment, "He's having a vision!"

The computer in the corner. Glass shards on the floor. Two hand guns? Clean as a Whistle. A few books on the shelf…

Shawn quickly pieced it all together while moaning and gasping until he was sure he had everyone's full attention.

"Get a move on!" Gus hissed to his friend.

"MMM….THERE WERE TWO SHOOTERS!" Shawn straightened up suddenly, cross eyed, "One burst into the back door when Mrs. Springer was at the computer and fired a shot! Missed! Lady dove to the floor—" Shawn did so, "—And returned fire! _BANG BANG!" _

He got to his feet, but staggered back into the couch. After making sure has alright, he continued with his strange speech.

He pointed at one of the holes, and lined it up while straddling the first taped outline, "Someone _else _came in the door and shot the first shooter in the back of the head. He then decided to do some light reading…"

Shawn pulled a pen from his pocket and carefully extracted a leather-bound book from the nearest shelf, making sure he didn't get any prints on it. He inched it out from its hiding spot, and it hit the ground with a loud _thump._

"Sorry, did I say light reading Gus?" Shawn beamed at his friend, "It's such a small book, but to make that loud of a noise? It's almost like something was in there…"

"You've just tampered with a crime scene!" Don exclaimed, stepping towards him, but Shawn held up a finger and began to talk again.

"Every single book in this room is meticulously organized. Alphabetically—" He pointed to the shelves on his left, "—By published date—" He gestured to the left, and then pointed an accusing finger at the book sitting there on the ground, continuing, "Anyone who took that much time to organize all those stuffy books wouldn't just slam a copy back on the shelf without checking to find its true home." Using his penned hand, Shawn gasped theatrically and jerked hard to the left, making it seem like the pen were dragging him across the room to where he knew the book belonged, on the fourth row on the East shelves, "_HERE _is where or little friend belongs."

"Wow!" Randy looked impressed, "He really is a psychic!"

"This doesn't prove anything!" Colby said, "The book could have been—"

"AHH!!" Shawn's pen yanked him back around again until it was point at the book, "Agent Granger, take a close look at that book. What do you think that dark substance is on the cover?"

Colby stepped closer, kneeling down next to the book and examining it closely.

"It's blood." He said shortly, "Partial prints. Bag, bag it now."

While the Captain shouted for one of the CSU people to get him an evidence bag, pronto, Colby used his own pen to carefully flip open the cover of the book.

"It's 'Hansel and Gretel." He reported to the other detectives, agents, and police officers, "And—" Still using the pen, he flipped a few pages until something fell out onto the carpet—

The Captain was there next to Colby, examining the strange object. It was one of those souvenir magnets, brightly colored and heavy enough to keep an entire ream of papers stuck on your fridge until kingdom come.

'_Sunny Santa Barbra' _was inscribed brilliantly on the front of the thing. The Captain took Colby's pen and carefully turned the magnet over…there was a post-it note stuck on the back with three words inscribed on it in a curly handwriting…

_Follow bread crumbs. _

"Santa Barbra." David said suddenly, and in one bound he was at Cobly's side, "There's a clue in Santa Barbra! Whoever looked at this was supposed to follow a trail, starting in Santa Barbra!"

_Follow bread crumbs._

"Hang on, there's an address here." Colby said, and Don was there too, ready to write it down on the back of his hand. Lassiter tried valiantly to block Shawn from catching a glimpse of the street name and address, but it was to no avail. Shawn quickly took a mental picture and looked over at Gus.

"Looks like we hit the jackpot, eh buddy?" He turned to the others, "So does this mean I'm on the case?"

Everyone ignored him.

"This is in our turf, now." Lassiter said, chest swelling, "As a detectives of the Santa Barbra Police Department, I—"

"As a Federal Agent—" Don said in a loud voice, drowning out Lassie, "We're going to need permission to sweep in and take this house down. This is our only lead in what looks to be a pretty closed case—"

"Hang on one second, Agent." The Captain said gruffly, "This…'Psychic' here just proved that you can't do this all by yourself. If he weren't here we wouldn't have caught this."

"Oh, you're to kind!" Shawn gushed. Gus rolled his eyes.

"So…" The Captain continued, "Isn't that even more proof that we all need to work together on this?"

A beat—

"Yeah, fine I don't care." Don said, just happy that they had gotten somewhere today, "Just remember that we have lead jurisdiction here, but we could use all the help we can get."

"So we're heading back home?" Juliet asked, looking from Don to the Captain.

"To _253 Morse Court,_ yeah we are." Don grinned, and looked over at Colby and David.

"Do you two know where this is?" The Captain asked Lassiter and Juliet.

"It's on the west side." Lassiter said quickly, eager to please, "The bigger, richer houses on oceanfront."

"Great!" Shawn clapped his hands, "We're going home!"

"You said Jack and Katlyn were last seen in Santa Barbra…" Don pointed at Lassiter, who nodded.

"Yes, which is why we got the orders to—"

"Don't you all get it?" Don whirled, looking at the others, "They're following this trail too! If we can catch up with Jack and Katlyn, we might be able to piece together who killed Emily, and where Jon is!"

"Sounds like a plan to me." The Captain grunted.

"Should I call Monk?" Randy asked Stottlemeyer, "Tell him to pack up for a trick?"

"No…" Leeland rolled his eyes, "We'll call him when we get there."

"No way…" Gus groaned, "We drove for seven hours just to turn around and go right back…?"


	8. The House on A Hill

The house on Morse Court stood high on a hill that overlooked the ocean, commanding the high ground and therefore making it nearly impossible to approach with any degree of secrecy—a perfect hideout. In addition to this there was the fact that Morse Court was an upscale housing development that had just opened its gates. What few neighbors there were kept to themselves, mostly, which was key to anyone trying to lay low for a good long time.

"Whoever picked this place was pretty smart." Colby remarked reluctantly. He and David were parked at the bottom of a hill, peering up at the house through binoculars. The black SUV was hidden under a tree in some shade—virtually undetectable.

"You bet they were. I'm starting to think that maybe Don's right." David said vaguely, rolling down the window and focusing his binoculars. David left his statement at that, leaving a silence in the vehicle as he directed all his attention into scoping out the house.

Colby snorted, "I'm starting to think Don is getting way to deep in this case."

"You've only _just _picked up on that vibe?"

"Ha, ha." David rolled his eyes, "But seriously thought. He knew the victim. He went to school with the victim's kids. I can't understand why he hasn't been pulled from the case already, it goes against everything we've done before."

"I dunno about it…" David shrugged, "But I guess the higher ups have a good reason."

"Yeah…" Colby rubbed his temples. It had been a long day of driving, "You think Don was right in saying that maybe this was all a kidnapping stint?"

"I sure do." David muttered from behind the binoculars, still mostly engrossed in what he was doing, "I'm starting to think that maybe this is bigger than just a murder. If it is a kidnapping like Don says, then that would of course explain why Jon, Jack, and Katlyn are missing."

"So you think the kids have been taken hostage?" Colby asked rather skeptically, "We have no evidence to support that. All we know is that the husband and the kids are AWOL—one of those three a potential witness. Katlyn supposedly got of the bus from her high school a few minutes after it happened."

"We've got a timeframe already? Whose Medical Examiner are we using?"

"San Francisco 's." Colby answered back smartly, "And she says that Emily was killed some time around three thirty."

"Awful convenient, that's right when Kat comes home. Could she be a suspect instead of a material witness?"

"It doesn't matter if she is or not, either way no one can find her."

"Have they talked to her friends at school?"

"Don said the San Francisco detectives would get on that." Colby said, "But knowing Don he won't be satisfied with their results and will tramp over there to get an answer himself."

"What do you think of all this? I mean Santa Barbra and San Francisco putting their oars in?"

"We don't have much of a choice, it's almost like whoever killed Emily and possibly took the kids captive is trying to involve as many people as possible so that we all go for each others throats in the ensuing chaos." Colby sighed, "I know Don is sick of the way the Captain is treating him."

"From what I gather, the guy doesn't appreciate the Feds all that much." David said dryly, "Anyways, if jack and Katlyn were taken, then it would also explain why Jon hasn't been trying to contact Emily's F.B.I buddies or any other authorities—the kidnappers could easily tell him that if he goes to the police or tries to get help, that they'll kill the kids."

"You're assuming that its Jack and Katlyn that have been taken hostage" Colby mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "Could it be the other way around?"

David snorted, "Maybe, but I doubt it. Jon probably has more exclusive confidential information that his wife brought home from work than any man alive. He's the one you'd want out of the three of them, I don't know what those kids would have."

"No Federal Agent is going to come home after an assignment, and then tell the rest of the family all about it over dinner." Colby said, once more his tone skeptical, "So if the kids have been taken captive, what else could they want from Jon?"

"They were pretty well to do, or so I hear." David lowered his binoculars and glanced over at his partner, "Money?"

"If it was just money I don't think they'd be dragging us all across the state." Colby leaned forward, "Do you see anything up there?"

"Yeah, I do." David suddenly threw his binoculars into Colby's lap. He slammed the vehicle into reverse, and floored it—sending the black SUV shooting backwards out of sight, "A dude with binoculars staring straight back at me."

Colby swore, "They might run, what do ya think we should do?"

"Call in all units, we don't have a choice. Whoever is in there was smart enough to pick that house, I'm pretty sure they'll be smart enough to put together that we're not just out bird watching." David said, "Radio Don and tell him we gotta go in."

"Done." Colby unclipped the two-way from his belt and depressed the, 'talk' button, "This is Granger, mobile, to station house and all units. Hard and fast to that house, people. They've spotted us and we've gotta move now or loose them for good."

"_Copy." _Dons voice came over the channel, sounding haggard and stressed "_On our way."_

"_The object was _not _to be seen." _Now the voice belonged to police Captain leeland Stottelmeyer, "_Can you Feds not do anything right?"_

"_Save it, Captain." _Don's voice crackled over the channel again, "_Granger and Sinclair—"_

"We know." Colby said as David pulled the SUV


	9. San Fransisco Again

**I am not very aware of my surroundings. I wrote about half of the chapter before realizing I had switched back to first person. However, one person commented that they liked how it went back and forth, effectively making sure you get a good look inside Kat's head while still getting around other characters. Therefore, here is my proposal—the Jack/Katlyn scenes are going to be 1****st**** person, I guess. Or whatever I feel like taking the time to do. Yeah, lets go with that.**

"You're sure this is the right place?" 

Jack braked hard in front of the apartment building, rolled down the window, and peered out and up. He looked back at me anxiously, and repeated his inquirey, "Kat, I said—"

"I'm sure I'm sure." I snapped, interrupting before he could ask yet again, "Don't stop so quick, it looks suspicious."

"Nothing suspicious about us." Jack said sarcastically, bringing his head back into the car. He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror—adjusting his sunglasses and baseball cap, "Nothing at all…"

"Just keep moving…" I said nervously, looking up at the windows. I was sure I saw one of the shades drawn back, and a dark figure watching us from behind the glass…

We had taken the trip to the south side of San Francisco after getting help from Shawn Spencer. Jack drove the entire way with the pedal to the metal, trying to get back home in record speed. We knew we were running out of time to line up our players—sooner or later we were going to be looked at as suspects in the murder of our mom as opposed to the missing victims. When that would come along, we would have to duck even more underground.

But for now we could still use the roads and get where we needed to be without too much feat of recognition. Of course we took the necessary precautions. My long blond hair was tied down neatly in braids, a beanie cap yanked snugly over my forehead. Jack was driving along in his Giants baseball cap, and tinted shades.

"_MOVE!" _I exclaimed as we still sat there, idling.

Jack hit the gas and we glided around the corner and down the street into more residential areas, that ever faithful motor purring just like a kitten. I flipped on the radio, just in time to catch the nine o clock news.

"—_News on the Springer murder, police detectives have reason to believe that Jack and Katlyn Springer were seen downtown Santa Barbra last Tuesday. Captain Leeland Stottelmeyer had no comment to make, indicating that—"_

"What the hell!" Jack and I exclaimed in the same breath.

"They knew we were there…" I looked over at him, alarmed, "But…we were careful, weren't we?"

"The Stang, they had to have noticed the Mustang!" Jack groaned, pounding on the steering wheel, "Damn, if they're that close behind us it wont be to long before they find Matt and grill him about…who told? Someone must have…I can't believe they're that close on out tails…"

"No way." I shook my head so hard that my braids whipped against the seat, "Matt is the only one who knows about the car, he wouldn't have squealed, you would have killed him…someone else might have known about it—"

"Yeah every single other person I hung out in high school with." Jack cursed, "I bet they went to the police trying to help find us, when really we don't want to be found at all…_Dammit_—"

"Charlie, maybe?"

"Who?"

"Charlie Eppes…he was like three years above you…you hung out with him didn't you? His brother Don was in the F.B.I with mom, maybe Charlie wanted to help Don and told him how you said you'd never get rid of that Mustang…"

"I hung out with him once in a while between classes, but that kid never talked much at all except to say something that made me look dumb." Jack growled, "And I never liked Don…"

"Really?"

"Really Really." Jack made a U-turn right in the middle of the street, and came roaring back the way we had come, towards the apartments again. I could tell he was as rattled about this news as I was.

We crested a hill and the car pitched forward. It was nothing new to Jack and me, since we had lived here in the city for most of our lives, but after staying in Santa Barbra for almost a week it did take a little getting used to. Jack coasted carefully to the bottom of the street, and we sat at a light while I continued my fishing expidition.

"Do you think Charlie could have told Don about the Mustang?"

"I don't know what to think again, Kat. I thought that our going around the country would shake the cops…"

"So did I." I was miserable, "If the Police Captain already knows some things, we'd better find this Monk guy before they call him in, if they haven't already."

Jack punched the gas and we shot off down the road, running the red light and causing quite a few angry beeps. The force of our acceleration threw me back into the seat. I did not approve.

"Great." I rolled my eyes as we blasted our way up another hill "Real conspicuous."

"Yeah well, I'm a little distracted right now." Jack muttered. "Which means even if we don't know for sure if this is where he lives we'll have to risk it and go out and try." I said heatedly, jabbing my finger at the side of the road, "Here—Just park there and we'll walk the rest of the way. What are we going to do? If they have an I.D on the car, then we need to get a new one…"

"We'll borrow one." Jack pulled over as ordered, and I was out of the car and on the sidewalk before he had even turned the engine off.

"Whatever, we just can't drive around in that thing anymore." I called over my shoulder, walking off down the street, "You might have to part with the thing for more than four hours, Jack."

It was a lush suburban area. We walked down the street and turned left at the intersection until we came to the apartment complex we had passed earlier about three times, unsure about if our quarry resided here…

"_SPENCER!" _Jack exclaimed suddenly. I turned.

"Excuse me?"

"HE must have told the police!" Jack fumed, racing forward a few steps to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with me, "Or that Gus guy, I didn't trust him at all…"

"Jack we _hired _them." I said, rolling my eyes, "You just don't like Shawn…"

"I'm serious, Kat!" Jack growled, "Who else could it have been?"

"Charlie Eppes, just like you said!" I shot back, "Or someone else entirerly!"

"Who?" Jack was really getting fed up now, and I knew I was toeing a line before I'd earn myself a smack or something else, "_Katlyn, there is no one else_!"

After this eruption, I did not speak. I let my older brother pound the pavement ahead of me as the California sun beat down. Even though it was nearly high noon, the sidewalk suddenly seemed very cold. Jack's words '_there is no one else'_ hit me especially hard…there _was _no one else, it was just Jack and I now that everything had blown up. I had no friends, no school, no life, no home, and a pathetic excuse for a family. There indeed was no one else. 

I think Jack realized what his statement had done to me, because he slowed up and pulled his shades down a bit and looked at me with his blue eyes that looked so much like my mother's, "Kat…"

"It's fine." I said, moving to push past him, "The place is up here—"

But he grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around, and stared at me hard, searching my face greedily. It was a strange moment and he opened his mouth and tried again to speak.

"Katlyn…I know I've been an ass these last few days, I know it. But everything is closing in right around us, and we haven't much time before the axes fall and the heads roll. Whatever happens… we're family, and I'll protect you."

"I know it too, Jack." I said gruffly, unused to seeing such emotion and sincerity in my brother's voice. This seemed a strange place to have a bonding moment, but I guess you take them like you can get them. We walked the rest of the way to the complex in silence.

Up the stairs two—three at a time, Jack's long legs devouring the distance in massive strides while I had to work to keep up. Before we knew it we were on the second floor in front of the very door that had practically haunting my dreams for days.

"So here we are." Jack huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me, "I can only hope that we aren't too late…if the SFPD has gotten to him before we do…"

"That doesn't bear thinking about, Jack." I said grimly, pulling off my beanie hat and stuffing it in my pocket. I was tempted to shake loose my braids, but I let them be, "We might as well be recognizable, there is no way that we're going to be able to pull anything over on this guy."

"Well knock on the door before I wet myself with excitement." Jack said flatly.

I turned and face the door, its stark whiteness almost mocking me. Tentatively I raised my hand and knocked three times. 

Feeling thoroughly foolish, I stood back and awaited results…


	10. A Tale of Two Teegers

(Alright, folks

**(There is a hefty intro to this chapter because it was one of the hardest ones I've ever written. Alright, folks. I'll admit it. The reason that Monk has been absent thus far in the story is that I wasn't sure if I had the talent to capture all his idiosyncrasies in text form. Well there is no putting it off anymore, and here is my valiant, brazen attempt at a chapter with Defective Detective. Also—I found Natalie rather vexing to write. No offense to her character on the show…but I find that she has no real personality that makes her stand out in writing. Thusly, amidst all the other colorful characters here in this tale…she might just blend in a little too well. Honestly I don't think this chapter is all that stellar…give me a break, its my first try at Monk. After I wrote the bit with Monk I realized that there was little to no actual plot movement, so I included other little short bits that might actually get us somewhere haha. This is the fact—Monk is a character that is better acted out, not written down. Urg. I will say it, I despise writing Monk already.)**

It was spring—a wild and desperate season with a hearty lack of logic to it. Every year (it did not fail) there descended a flurry, a whirlwind of activity upon the House of Monk…and once more Natalie found she was swept up spectacularly in the middle of it.

Every year Monk found it necessary and proper to practically dismantle his home in an orderly way so as to remove the dirt and dust from each of his possessions. Here entered the insanity of it all—the house was painfully, achingly meticulously clean as it was. There was an utter dearth of filth to be cleaned, seeing as the defective detective swept the place from top to bottom with all the thorough care of a fine-toothed comb's fine-toothed comb.

Natalie submitted to the more bizarre practices of this ritual called _Spring Cleaning _for the sake of her monthly paycheck. She supposed that now she cut a rather comical figure, standing in Monk's living room wearing protective gloves, a hairnet, and a mask, cleaning doorknobs, hinges, doorframes, dishes, forks, spoons, knives, glasses, cups. The last two days had been anything but exciting, and she was so sick of the smell of Pine-sol that it nearly wanted to make her scream. Julie had mercifully been spared, smart enough to realize that to escape this she had to stay as far away as possible from Monk or even her mother. A rather disgruntled Natalie Teeger was handling anything that wasn't bolted down.

Anything that _was _bolted down, however, had been subject to a rigorous cleaning at the hands of Adrian Monk himself. Now after a days worth of cleaning furniture and whatnot, he sat at Trudy's old desk from her office, staring down at the darkened oak, and the cleaning rag slipped from his hand and hit the floor.

Natalie looked up from the kitchen where she was carefully washing a doorknob, as ordered (with particular movements so as not to leave streaks) and saw the man sitting there in his morose state with his hands limp at his side.

A pang went through her chest—he could not bear to wipe away any last imprint Trudy Monk had left on Earth. The moment was touching, and Natalie set down her sponge to revel in the poignancy of it all.

As though Monk sensed her inactivity, he wheeled around with a blazing look on his face, his gloved pointer finger stretched out as he squinted and tilted his head in her direction, "You missed a spot."

All sympathy was gone in one fell swoop. Natalie sent a scathing look across the hall and went back to her work, thinking wistfully about this month's pay and how gleefully she would cash it in.

"You still missed it." Monk repeated, a little louder as though she had not heard him.

Fed up, Natalie put the doorknob down. When she spoke her voice sounded oddly muffled from behind the surgeon mask, "Mr. Monk there is no way that you can tell from—"

"You've still missed it, Natalie." Similarly, Monks voice was distorted.

The gentle inflections. The earnest plea in the voice. The stare. There was (sadly) no doubt in Natalie's mind that she had indeed missed a spot, and deserved chastisement for such a crime. She methodically went back to washing, feeling tempted to drop it all and leave.

_That paycheck…_

"Mr. Monk, you know next time the Captain calls we're going to have to go." Natalie felt (not for the first time that day) that she needed to comment, bringing up the old argument. In Natalie's mind, at least, it had been an argument. The Captain had called with a case for them, and Monk had politely turned him down saying that Spring Cleaning needed to be done. Natalie had nearly croaked then even when the case was so small, and now that it was Federal she could only imagine the perks in store if Monk would only…

"We don't have to go, Natalie." Monk said with the air of one explaining something very simple to a small child. His eyes looked as empty as they ever had, "We cover homicides, not kidnappings."

"There was a death though, Emily Springer!" Natalie insisted, "She was your old friend on the force, Mr. Monk. Why won't you help find whoever killed her?"

It was apparently a bad question to ask. Monk grew silent and swung back around abruptly. The silence in the air was the same sort of silence that fell whenever Trudy's name somehow got into a conversation.

"Look, I'm sorry Mr. Monk. I didn't know this lady, but you did." Natalie abandoned her doorknob and wound her way back from the kitchen to where the living room was, "And I really think you should do something to make this right…"

Monk must have had his reasons for this flat refusal, because he gave a small incoherent mutter and rose to his feet, "Someone is coming."

All at once there was a knock at the door.

"Who could that be?" Monk said more for his own benefit than Natalie's. Leaving her aghast at how he could have known the presence of guests—and how Mr. Monk was planning on entertaining what with the house in orderly shambles—the man walked slowly, carefully to the door in time to pluck two pairs of gloves, two hats and two facemasks as though he were expecting these arrivals.

The door did not open for at least a full minute. Kat felt distinctly foolish standing there in the hall with her brother at her side. In her mind she knew that Jack was already planning on turning tail and leaving, so she reached out with a hand and squeezed his both to keep him anchored in the spot, and to let him know that in this moment she needed understanding from him, not the skeptically raised eyebrow.

Jack returned the gesture with a small amount of compassion, and they exchanged glances. He was hoping this worked just as much as she was.

There was a shuffling noise behind the door, and both of them turned their eyes back to the white thing at once.

"I'm sorry but we're not available right now," A distinctly tired, worn voice drifted out from the wood, "Please leave a message after the tone…we do not make calls, we are not here…we are busy…"

Kat sprang at the door, her reserve had held so long in these past few days and in that moment it nearly broke, "Mr. Monk? Mr. Adrian Monk? Please, please open the door this is Katriona Springer and we need your help desperately…we wouldn't have come to anyone else but things are just starting to fall together and we realized that we can't…that we can't…"

Natalie lunged past Monk and wrenched the door open with such ferocity that Kat leaped back, screaming.

"_Mrs. Teeger??"_

For one moment, Natalie stared at Katriona with such shock on her face that it was hard to tell who was more befuddled, she or Jack. The look on Kat's face was that of unexpected joy, as though she had found a hundred dollar bill in her jeans pocket or rather that Christmas had come early.

"Yes?" Was all that Natalie could say, aware that she looked ludicrous still with her hairnet and mask on, "Do I…do i…"

"Know me?" Kat gasped, stepping towards the woman, "I was a good friend of Julie's at school…I…I've seen you bringing her to school, sorry, I remember faces really well…its just that…I…"

Jack stepped in, thinking it time to take over, "Monk, we need your help. You know as well as anyone what's going on, and you seem to be the only person at the moment who—_mrrff.."_

Monk had reached out and firmly put the surgical mask over Jack's face. Momentarily flustered, Jack let it go and continued anyways, altering his speech behind the cloth so that his words were actually intelligible.

"We're on the run, the authorities are getting everything wrong. We're following the bread crumbs and we know what's happening but we need to make sure that we put enough people on the _real _trail before we go into hiding. Monk—"

"I can't help you." Monk said suddenly, unexpectedly, and made to close the door, "We—"

"Now _wait just a minute!" _Natalie said ferociously. Now that she thought on it, she recognized Katriona's pretty face not only from the televised news, but from parties and social happenings that she had taken her daughter to as well, "This is a friend of Julie, and she needs help."

"Excuse us." Monk held up one finger, dragged Natalie back into the house and closed the door with a snap right in the kid's faces.

Jack and Kat stood there, at a loss for words.

"She is much more than a friend of Julie's, she's a wanted suspect in the brutal shooting of a woman." Monk hissed, staring at Natalie with fire in his eyes, "If the Captain knew that she and her brother had come here—the brother may even be a suspect in this case, we don't even know its gone to the Feds…"

"Mr. Monk, they both came here because they're running scared. They're from our town, and I trust Julie to pick good friends!" Natalie insisted, choosing to ignore memories of the actual bad friends Julie had been known to hang around with, "They want to hire us, and seeing as you've refused to help the Captain and the San Francesco Police Department…"

There was something in Monk's eyes, and it made Natalie stop.

"Mr. Monk…something is especially wrong, I can tell. What is it?"

"Emily Springer was not as bright and as innocent as everyone makes her out to be." Monk said with that glint still in his eye, "Natalie, if helping these kids means that her true actions are brought to light for all to see…then _fine _I'll do it. The Captain was too fond of her, that's really why I didn't take the case…"

Monk glanced at the door, and suddenly slammed his fist against it hard.

Kat yelped and jumped back. She had been listening with her ear pressed against the woodwork. She staggered back again into Jack's arms.

"You heard him, they don't want us." He said, looking down at her.

Back inside, Natalie was looking at Monk as though she had never seen him before. The only times he was filled with such passion was when he was on the trail of a killer. It gave her chills—Monk was serious about this woman.

Monk pulled the door open again a sliver, and spoke hesitantly, "C-come in."

(_**Break)**_

"…and then they just left and said they'd be in touch!" A few hours later, Natalie was relating this tale to Julie. The teen had her homework books sprawled out in front of her on the kitchen table, and although her Ipod buds were in, she was listening to her mother intently, hanging on every word.

Natalie threw her hands in the air, "I don't know what to make of it!"

Julie chuckled, pulling her Calculus book towards her, "Mr. Monk let them into his house amidst his cleaning freakout? Wow, I'm impressed."

"After they put the hairnets on!" Natalie chuckled, but then quickly became serious, "Julie, you need to tell the Captain that you knew Julie Springer. It could be very helpful in their investigation."

"Not really." Julie shrugged, "Kat never talked much about what went on at home. I guess we all know that her mom was in the FBI and that her dad was a jerk. No one asked and no one really needed to know."

"Her dad was a jerk?" Natalie's inquisitive nature reared its head.

"Well yeah," Julie said casually, flipping through the pages of the textbook, "She always said about how he'd never let her do anything really anymore, about how he was really nervous about stuff happening to him…you know, usual teenager stuff. He was really controlling."

"Right." Natalie said. She filled her lungs to try and press Julie into telling her more, but the girl had already turned up the volume. There would be no getting past the wall-of-shun, because Julie was done talking. Natalie knew from experience that this meant she would not be spoken to for a while and wisely chose to leave the room.

The second Natalie went off to occupy herself with something, Julie glanced up to make sure she was gone. Once this fact had been confirmed, she pulled her cell phone from her school bag and scrolled through a few names in her address book. She found the one she wanted and hit the 'call' button, slinking from the table and heading out the door to the backyard.

She walked down the stone path and put her back to the large oak. Here she knew no one could see her. There was better service on this end anyways. The phone rang and rang and rang…

_Come on, Kat. Pick up._

"Hello?"

Julie's heart skipped a beat, but she swallowed it and managed a shaky, "K-Kat?"

"Jewels…" The voice on the other end sounded tired and worried.

Julie looked around her shiftily. Her mom was probably watching TV, either that or watching her from out the window. Either way she knew that she had to make it quick, and therefore skipped all the usual girl greetings and gushes,"What did you guys want with my mom's boss?"

"Where are you right now?"

"In my backyard."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"The police and Monk aren't making you do this call so they can trace us?"

"No. Monk doesn't trust the police for this case, at least that's what my mom says."

There was a silence on the other end. Julie gave a small smile, "I promise I'm alone, Kat. On my honor, or else I'll ask Nick Race Visser to prom."

There was a dry chuckle, "OK, that's about as good a promise as you can make. What do you want to know?"

Julie took a deep, calming breath, "You've been all over the news! What do you think I want to know! I haven't seen you in school for ages…everyone is starting rumors that you ran away with Dustin Grose…"

"I wish," Kat's voice was starting to warm a little, and it didn't sound quite so fractured or tired, "Well, you know the news stories. Someone is orchestrating these events, someone is leaving a trail up and down California that Jack and I are trying to trace. So far its lead us to Monk."

"Why do you think he can help?"

"He and my mom have a history…not like a romantic history, so you can stop looking so scandalously excited." Julie grinned, Kat knew her too well, "I don't know the exact details, but…I dunno. Jack wasn't sure if this connection would help or hinder us, but its done enough that he's agreed to look over our case and try to help us."

"So where are you guys right now?"

"Sorry, Jewels. I can't say. I trust you, but there is a chance that this call is being bugged even without you or me knowing."

Once more, Julie looked around her. It was getting dark, she had better get back inside before she was missed, "Is there anything you want me to do? I really wish I could help you out, Kat."

"Tell Dustin that I love him and that I most definitely would have gone with him to Spring Fling." Kat chuckled, "Besides that, there's not much else you can do except believe me when I say that not all is as it seems."

"My mom is coming outside." Julie said suddenly. The door had swung open.

"Julie?"

Julie snapped her phone shut and slipped it back into her pocket, her face flushed…


	11. From San Francisco to LA

**I know, I know…I've been gone for a while. Sorry, life is a bitch at times. But anyways, here we are again. At first glance this chapter looks to be a filler, but upon closer examination there's a fair bit of foreshadowing. I'm back!!**

__"I still can't believe you just took that call." Jack muttered, hands gripping the steering wheel of the car they had 'borrowed', "What's the betting that they traced the call and are now blocking off the interstate?"

"Relax, it was Julie Teeger." I rolled my eyes, "Natalie's daughter. Julie won't talk, she and i are like sisters. And even if she does, Monk won't let her mom take it to the police. You didn't hear what i heard, Jack. Monk is taking the case because he wants to unveil something about mom..."

"Like 'sisters', huh?" Jack scoffed, switching lanes and pushing the pedal down, shooting for the highway, "Kat, what you don't know yet is that a friend is an enemy in disguise..."

"Your outlook on life is quite sunny." I snapped back, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring out the window as the urban sprawl flashed past, "In a situation like the one we're in now, I would really appreciate it if you were a bit less cheery. You know, when you're in such a good mood like this i start to worry."

"YOU start to worry?" Jack raised his voice, gripping the steering wheel harder, "Only now you've started to worry? I've been worrying since you came to my house, Kat, and told me what was going on! Hell, I've been worrying since i moved out five years ago, since i left you there in that hellhole alone! NOW you've started to worry?"

Stung, I did not say anything more. There was a hot burning sensation in my nose and i squeezed my eyes shut, not willing to let Jack know that he had gotten to me so badly.

We rode on in a furious silence. It was going to be an eight hour drive until we got where we were going, and at this rate it was going to seem like a lot longer.

"Kat...I'm sorry." I was quite surprised when Jack offered his apology, i had been waiting for him to continue his barrage, "I...I really am. It's just...after mom got back from that undercover mission, she and dad...It was just too much for me. I had to move out. I had to leave. You, oh god, you--If it had been legal i would have gotten you out of there the second i moved."

"I know, Jack." I said quietly.

"At least it got better, right? I mean, once mom was transferred to the LA office for the FBI, she got a little...better...right?"

"She just wasn't home as much." I said, still in a soft voice, "She still scared me. They both did."

"The second that we get dad back, I swear..I'll bend his arm backwards if i have to, but he'll switch custody and you can stay with me." Jack promised.

It was an empty promise, and it would never happen. I knew it. Still, it was a prospect that gave me enough comfort that the burning sensation went away, and i knew that was what Jack had intended. He really was a good guy, once you got past...everything.

Jack was done with the heart-to-heart. He was a business man at the core, and he changed the topic so fast it was a wonder he didn't suffer from whiplash.

"Charley will help." He muttered, probably more to himself than me as we screamed down the interstate, "Charley, he's GOT to..."

"Don's brother? I thought you hated Don?" I rolled with it, there would be time enough to drudge up the past later.

Jack gave his characteristic contemptuous snort, "Oh, sure I hated him. We both hated each other. I was a year younger than him in school, but we were both on the baseball team. Competition got pretty heated..."

"So..wait...what?"

"You were never a teenage boy, Katlyn." Jack said wisely.

"Really? I'm still a teenage girl as far as I can tell."

Jack laughed again, "We hated each other's guts, but we kept each other close. I'm sure you catty teenage girls do the same thing."

"'We catty teenage girls'?" I raised an eyebrow, "Pardon?"

"You get the point at any rate." Jack was staring at the road, lost in memories, "It was such a fierce competition that you just had to invite him to parties, to hang out just so you could outdo him. We were a lot alike, which i think added to the mess."

"That's exactly what i need right now, Jack. A macho man testosterone battle when we get to L.A."

"Well, I hope he's mellowed out over the years." Jack wasn't gripping the steering wheel so hard now.

It was my turn to snort, "Like you?"

Jack gave me The Look.

This was the banter that we were so used to, a conversation like this meant that we loved each other. I could see the grin in his eyes even as he tried to look severe, and i punched his arm appropriately.

"Hey, Jack, maybe we'll get out of this OK after all."

He shook his head, "Maybe."

"How do you know Don and Charley will help us, if Don hates you so much?"

"Don's ego is huge." Jack grunted, "It'll be pretty easy, all I have to do is hint at the idea that maybe his brother cant' do it. Then all we have to do is watch the fireworks."

"Did you ever consider the possibility that Don might try to arrest you if he's at home when we come to call? Apparently we're changing from material witnesses to suspects."

"Who said we're going to the house?" Jack gave me that evil smile of his...


End file.
